Wonderful
by Saphron
Summary: Ah, you guessed it! SongficEverclear's Wonderful. Angsty. 'Bout cheating and the consequences, from a truamatized mistake child to STD. But um, right, summery: Is Owen really as jolly as he seems? DDA alert dark, depressing, angst Read with caution.


Wonderful **__**

Wonderful

By Saphron

Summery: Is Owen really as jolly as he seems? 

Dedication: For divorce/troubled families and marriages, children who feel unwanted and "mistakes" and also people with AIDS.

NOTE: Very DDA-dark, depressing, angst. Heavy material and language, hence the R-rating. I advise extreme caution; read at your own desecration. Deals with cheating and the consequences, from a traumatized child to STD. 

~ 

__

Hey, ain't life wonderful? Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, isn't it wonderful? Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, I feel so wonderful, wonderful, wonderful isn't everything wonderful now-isn't it wonderful now?

I close my eyes when I get too sad   
I think thoughts that I know are bad   
Close my eyes and I count to ten   
Hope it's over when I open them 

He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately fighting the overwhelming nausea threatening to drown him. He knew what was coming-and he dreaded it. He'd be sick if he had to hear it one more time. Just one more time would send him over the edge hurling.

Too bad, the gods were against him today. It came anyway; despite his desperate hope that they'd actually work it out this time. Owen lay awake listening to the sound of flying objects missing their target of his father's head to smash into the wall behind him, as the screaming and hollering of two very upset people leaked its way through the thin walls to echo through his small room, and echo through his head like a thousand pounding war drums.

"Marian! For the last time-"

"Greg! What was she doing here huh? Huh?"

"Marion-it didn't mean anything, really, it didn't-"

"Nothing my foot! Get out! OUT!"

"Marion-"

"NOW! OUT of my house, I won't have this, OUT!"

"But-"

"YOU BLOODY FUCKING BASTARD! OUT!"

__

  
I want the things that I had before   
Like a Star Wars poster on my bedroom door   
I wish I could count to ten   
Make everything be wonderful again   
  
He heard the door slam angrily as his mother locked his father out for the umpteenth time. The bolt cinched and he heard a weak whimper from the outside, a pathetic shuffling of feet and whiny implore for her to at least give him his toothbrush. She shouted something Owen didn't know she had the vocabulary for, threw the door open and in a burst of passionate fury chucked the toiletry at his father's head. He shouted something back to her, jammed his hat on his head, and turned on his heels to march down the road, presumably to the local townhouse to spend the night with one of his whores.

Owen peered out from beneath his blankets, which were piled over him in a protective-sheltering manor, and unclenched his fingers. The worst was over for the night. His mother would collapse against the back of the wooden door and sob, letting the bitter tears drench her nightshirt and stain her already tear-streaked cheeks. She's sink into her own world for a little while, a place of black thunder clouds and endless rain, a place she drowned in ever day, a place known as depression. Owen couldn't follow, nor could he comfort her.

He had tried before…but nothing and nobody could dry her eyes when she was in her netherworld. He had been a little boy, seven or so, and not understanding anything about deception or betrayal, yet having the keen sense that all children posses, the intuition that something was wrong, had tried. He had left his secure bed to sneak his little head underneath her folded arms and nuzzle up to her bosom, letting her stroke his soft curly brown hair and whisper in his ear about how everything was going to be alright again, giving her comfort when she needed it most. She had hugged him close, the fear of losing him as she had lost her husband making her afraid to let go. And he had tried to understand, and tried to be comforting…but he was only a little boy, and there was only so much he could do.

And he dared not leave his bed to console her now; he was too afraid. Afraid of the darkness that loomed over his home, afraid of his father, who was a bad, bad man, but most of all afraid to face his mother. How could he face the woman who had birthed him, who was wonderful and strong and brave, lie on the floor weeping? Broken and defeated…he couldn't face that, he couldn't deal with that, so instead he closed his eyes and wished himself far, far away…

_Hope my mom and I hope my dad   
Will figure out why they get so mad   
Hear them scream, I hear them fight   
Say bad words that make me wanna cry _

He was back at the palace, friends surrounding him, and he was smiling and laughing. Exclaiming jovially, "joust Lord Wyldon? Why that's just jolly Kel!" _Jolly_, that was _his_ word, his very favorite word to use around his friends…but he was anything but. He wasn't as happy as he appeared to be, oh no, not by a long shot. How can anyone be happy when their parents were always at each other's throats? Fighting, yelling, screaming, cussing, never a peaceful moment, a bloody all-out war. And the sad thing was-he had everything and nothing to do with it.

He constantly asked himself-was it his fault? Did they fight because of him? Was he to blame?

His mother had told him no, she had said it had nothing to do with him, they just had some problems they needed to work out…don't worry about it, go to bed, everything be will be wonderful soon enough.

But he still couldn't get rid of the guilt that lingered…what if it was his fault? It probably was, it'd figure, his father hadn't wanted him after all. Only pure will from his strong mother saved him, for he was all for aborting the brat the world didn't want. Ever since his berth his parents had been bitter…his father upset at yet another mouth to feed, and his mother shocked and pained beyond belief that the man she had loved would ever even consider killing her precious baby. So really, it was his fault. If he had never been born…well, they wouldn't hate each other so. He was a mistake, it was all his fault.

__

Close my eyes when I go to bed   
And I dream adventures that will make me smile   
I feel better when I hear them say   
Everything will be wonderful someday 

After a few silent tears that leaked from the corner of his eyes despite his best attempt to stop them, Owen fell blissfully asleep. The only time he was ever content, not worrying about his parents relationship or the guilt of him being the root of the problem, was when he was asleep. It faded inconspicuously when he was around his friends, but yet the bitter taste always remained in the back of his mouth, begging to be washed away. But he could dream himself into the real world when he was sleeping. He could live the perfect life in the foggy world of unreality. The next morning would bring the aftermath of the fight…but for now? For now life was beautiful.

Of course, sometimes there were horrific nightmares instead of pleasant dreams. Often reoccurring flashbacks of previous fights like an anamnesis of a bad trip (memories of LSD bummer). Then he'd wake up dripping with sweat, so confused he didn't know where he was or even who he was anymore…he was always just so disconcerted. Nothing seemed right, time and space were demented fragments of reality, swirling around like broken stained colorful glass…melting together in bloody scenes of endless rage and chaos…oh how he wished he could just talk to someone about this! Someone who would understand, and sympathize, and care…he was just so confused, he needed someone to straighten him out…yet there was no one. No one cared about him except his mother, and he had long learned not to grow any hope when she said everything would be alright, because it was just one big lie…things were never wonderful, and they would never be wonderful again.

__

Promises mean everything when you're little   
And the world's so big   
I just don't understand how   
You can smile with all those tears in your eyes   
Tell me everything is wonderful now 

"Owen honey, give mommy a hug…" His bleary-eyed mother begged, holding out her arms. Truthfully he wanted to roll his eyes and tell her off for acting like he was two, when really he was a full-fledged teenage boy who didn't do hugs. But at the same time something inside him longed for a warm caress, a show of love, someone to tell him that he was wanted in this world by at least someone… And he knew she needed one too, so he momentarily nobly buried his teenage pride and embraced his mother with a big hug.

He wrapped his arms around her and listened to her coo in his ear about how life would start picking up again soon enough, the sun would peek out from behind the clouds soon enough… She smiled behind her tears, and Owen nodded his head when she murmured her futile promises. He knew she meant well, but promises meant nothing. The only purpose they served was to get broken.

If you didn't toughen up and stop hoping like an unrealistic optimist you got hurt. Your heart would shatter every time the faith was killed, dropped to the ground like a glass mirror, shattering into tiny fragments of a broken heart that only longed for peace…

He was tough; he could take it. He had lived through it all before; it was no different from all the other times. That was life. It was full of shit, but it was the only life your mum gave you and you had to learn to live with it. 

__

(Na na na na na na na)   
  
Please don't tell me everything is wonderful now   
  
I go to school and I run and play   
I tell the kids that it's all okay   
I like to laugh so my friends won't know   
When the bell rings I just don't wanna go home 

It came as a shock, whether good or bad, it left them both numb with narcosis. His father was dead. _Dead!_ Now of course, Owen and his mother didn't exactly get along with him…they weren't exactly a close-nit perfect family, but they had gotten rather used to his presence. The endless fights had become part of the daily routine, and now that they were gone their methodical existence was filled with an utter lack of something to do. In other words-boredom. What would Marion do with her life now that she had no husband's ass to kick for sleeping with her maid? 

He had died by STD (sexually transmitted disease). Turns out one of his little whores had been keeping a secret from him…and he never found out until it was too late. Owen didn't know whether to be spitefully glad or remorsefully sad, for part of him bitterly thought he deserved it after the hell he had put the family through, but still…did anyone deserve to unknowingly get AIDS? Actually HIV, later over time it had evolved into AIDS, but that was not the point. The point was that if his father hadn't of died he would have had to spend the rest of his days sick and tired and dependent on Marion, who wouldn't exactly be forgiving after all that had happened.

Overall it was good that he was gone…yet Owen couldn't help but feel a pang of something, regret that he hadn't gotten along better with his father perhaps, or maybe even contrition about the fact that'd he never see him again, the man was, afterall, his one and only father…

"Be strong," he whispered to himself, "You're such a wuss. Boys don't cry!" Yet as usual, the tears came anyway, in a fast and steady flow. And Owen could just imagine his father down in the Black God's Realm, frowning at his son's weakness, bad enough he had to be cursed with this mistake, but that he should be such a crybaby filled his father's corrupted soul with pure disgust. And Owen, seeing it all in one of those impossible confusing dreams, just cried harder.

__

Go to my room and I close my eyes   
I make believe that I have a new life   
I don't believe you when you say   
Everything will be wonderful someday 

Eventually life restored itself. By the time the summer was over the two of them, mother and son, had managed to adjust to their new life. Friends and family paid their respects, lamenting over the late Sir Gregory of Jesslaw. Little did they know of the secret rejoice his death brought. 

Owen's friends at the palace had all heard the news ad sent their sincerest apologies. Letter after letter arrived with "cheer up Owen! Sorry 'bout you dad, but no worries, things will be jolly soon enough…" scrawled on it. His friends, taking their cue from his naturally happy-go-lucky manor, had decided to play the old card of promising everything would be wonderful again in a little while.

Even though he knew they cared, they just couldn't understand. Nothing was ever jolly to begin with, so nothing could ever be jolly again. He'd still be wounded on the inside, the sting of his uninvited entrance to the world would forever prick him like a bur. He'd never feel truly wanted…and he knew his mother would never fully recovered form the betrayal…and he knew that nothing would ever be wonderful again…

__

Promises mean everything when you're little   
And the world is so big   
I just don't understand how   
You can smile with all those tears in your eyes   
When you tell me everything is wonderful now 

Then came the blessing in disguise. Of course at the time, it was nothing but a curse, but soon it grew to be the center of their universe.

A baby sister.

One of the wenches Greg has slept with had given birth to a little baby girl only a few weeks ago; but had died at childbirth. The baby had been living with the girl's mother, who had begrudgingly taken her in but not really wanted her. She had somehow found out about the girl's parentage, and traced her roots to the noble Jesslaws.

She had promised not to make a scandal of it on one condition; the Jesslaws take the baby in and treat her as one of their own.

Marion had no connection with the baby other than her son, who was its half-brother. But she was a naturally caring person, and as her days had been empty she welcomed the new addition to the family. She was something to focus her energy on, and make up for that gap in her heart left from the betrayal. Of course the baby cried a lot, and was forever getting sick, and was frowned upon by other family members as a disgrace and disgusting bit of flesh; a curse.

But Owen, remembering how it felt to be unwanted, cherished her. She was sweet and adorable, with soft rosy skin and big brown eyes. It wasn't her fault she was cursed with such parentage. And he refused to let the world turn on her. So who cares if she was a bastard child? Or was always sneezing because of her AIDS? She was still _his_ baby sister…and he promised himself that'd he do his best for her. He'd be a good older brother. She'd be raised in a loving, embracing home…a home she could call wonderful, a life she could call wonderful.…

Guess everything turned out all right after all. 

__

I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now   
  
I don't wanna hear you say   
That I will understand someday   
No, no, no, no   
I don't wanna hear you say   
You both have grown in a different way   
No, no, no, no   
I don't wanna meet your friends   
And I don't wanna start over again   
I just wanna my life to be the same   
Just like it used to be   
Somedays I hate everything   
I hate everything   
Everyone and everything  
Please don't tell me everything is wonderful now   
  
I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now

Song _Wonderful_ is by Everclear. Owen, Kel, anybody else is TP's, I only own Marion and Gregg. 

A/N: This didn't turn out quite so morbid as some of my other angst ficys, but I still thought it was worthy of posting. Moral--fighting and betrayal suck, and unfortunately they usually go hand in hand (believe me I know…) 

This is for people who have to deal with such problems. Troubled homes, AIDS, the like. No body is a mistake, no matter what. I know it's hard to believe…but life can be wonderful again.


End file.
